Gone Is the Child
Soft is the pillow where lay her sweet head,
Soft were the words from her lips as she read.
Gentle the lap where she silently lays,
Gentle the eyes from which she did gaze.
Calm is the breeze as it flows in the night,
Calm sounds the cricket just out of sight.
Quiet were the footsteps that fell in the hall,
Quiet the love that she gave to us all.
Bright is the light that under the door seeps,
Bright are the tears a mother silently weeps.
Deep is the anger she feels in her heart,
Deep is the pain that has torn her apart.
Harsh are the hours from dusk until dawn,
Harsh is the knowledge she has already gone.
Gone is the child we held to our breast,
Gone to the grave to where she will rest.
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